


you'll always be my thunder

by tomorrows



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Angst, M/M, Post-Zombie Apocalypse, have some chill, i guess???? idk?//, it's a bit sad so sorry in advice, neither Harry nor Louis die, um
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2014-10-11
Packaged: 2018-02-20 19:42:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2440583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tomorrows/pseuds/tomorrows
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Louis doesn't let himself think about it. He doesn't think of The List or LA or the cobblestone streets he knows like the back of his hand by now. He ignores the way the sun reflects off the gold band on his finger and decidedly puts on the peppiest, most sickeningly upbeat tunes on his phone. The sound of Anne's voice was enough for him, he thinks. Now it's just a matter of coping. He wonders if he's got the strength to ignore the pain in his chest for that long, until the end of his life, he presumes.</em>
</p><p>Based on <a href="http://spankingkink.tumblr.com/post/99739522201/dimpledlouis-whatbethsays-yes-but-consider">these tags</a> where a two-year long zombie apocalypse finally comes to an end and Louis and Harry don't know if the other's survived.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you'll always be my thunder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [togetherwecouldbealright](https://archiveofourown.org/users/togetherwecouldbealright/gifts), [lumineres](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lumineres/gifts).



> aaahhhhh sorry!! title's from boy meets girl's "thunder"  
> happy belated birthday to tashie, you little shit, i hope it's alright!
> 
> [tumblr](http://tornorrows.tumblr.com/)

**4 Days After the End:**

It's raining. Again. That's not new for London, not by a long shot, but it's been raining all week and it's making Charlie antsy. She's never been a fan of the rain, but since the outbreak ended she says being stuck inside the house because of it makes her skin crawl and her chest tighten, like she can't breathe anymore. Two years they've been locked inside this too-large house in their overpriced, gated community. Louis can understand why a week's worth of rain would set Charlie off. She was never one for the indoors before the outbreak started so the last two years have been a test for them like none other. 

But Louis is grateful for the rain keeping Charlie inside. At least then she won't have to see the large trucks beyond the gates collecting the bodies. The rain washes the blood away from the streets, covers up some of smell left behind. When there's thunder it muffles the horrified shrieks of family members stepping outside for the first time in two years. It also muffles their cries when they read The List. Those are the loudest noises. Louder than the guns during the final days of the outbreak, louder than the drones and police sirens and louder than the echoed silence on the first day of peace. Louis can't get those cries out of his head no matter how loud the rain is. It helps, but it doesn't cure. 

It's been 4 days, but Louis' not left the house since. 

It's been 4 days, and Louis still refuses to check the list of those who've passed. 

**2 Days Before the Outbreak:**

The sun isn't up yet when Louis wakes to long fingers tracing the knobs of his spine. It's such a soft touch; light and airy and sweet, that he's not sure how it'd woken him up. They don't feel like the fingers that stretched him open last night until he thought he was going to burst. They don't feel like the fingers that ran through his hair afterward either, occasionally getting caught in a knot and settling for a little massage instead. This touch is much lighter, much less purpose behind it. Almost like it's stuck in between adoration and instinct; fingertips dragging across every smooth inch of skin in yet another attempt to memorize the shape of Louis' body. 

"Sorry," Harry mumbles into the back of Louis' neck. He presses a kiss there, right below his hairline. "Didn't mean to wake you up." 

"You always do," Louis yawns into his pillow, voice still thick and groggy from last night. 

"I've only got two more days with you. Don't wanna spend them asleep."

It takes Louis a minute to settle the wild chase in his heart. He squeezes his thighs around Harry's leg that's in between his own before turning over on his side. Now that they're face to face Harry doesn't waste a second before burrowing into the crook of Louis' neck. 

"Did you not sleep at all?" Louis asks. The tables have turned and now it's his fingers tracing down Harry's spine. He's already memorized every little centimeter of his husband's body, but a refresher has never hurt him before. 

"Couldn't," Harry confesses against his neck.

"Why's that, angel?" 

Harry shrugs his broad shoulders, the ones Louis' encompassed with his arms. "I really don't wanna go back to LA, Lou." 

"Darling—"

Harry squeezes his arms where they're wrapped around Louis' waist. Louis knows that means Harry's got a lot to say, but he's scared and a bit overwhelmed and just needs a minute to process it all. Louis understands. He gives Harry the time that he needs. 

A few minutes later Harry picks his head up and rests it on Louis' pillow until they're eye to eye. "I don't want to leave you and Charlie behind right now. It just seems like a bad idea, Lou, what if something happens?"

"Because of that virus that's spreading around in Florida?" 

At the mention of the virus Harry visibly shrinks, skin paling and fingernails digging into the soft flesh of Louis' hips. Harry's been watching the news obsessively lately and all they ever talk about is this virus in southern Florida that's spreading like wildfire. Louis' tried assuring him on multiple occasions that it's probably just a seasonal flu outbreak or something, but then Harry will show him a picture of a gangly, reddened and lifeless body of one of its victims and Louis will doubt himself, but never aloud to his husband. That's usually when he turns the TV off, throws Harry's phone across the room, and attacks his mouth with heavy kisses. 

But that probably won't work right now. 

Louis sighs quietly and brushes Harry's fringe away from his eyes. He'd gotten his hair cut a few days ago so it's shorter and more manageable now. Louis still kind of misses being able to get lost in those curls. "Everything will be fine, love," he whispers for the hundredth time that week. "You're all the way in California, anyway. The chance of it spreading all the way there is rather unlikely, isn't it? Just get through those two weeks there and come back home to me. Can you do that? For me and Charlie?"

Harry's pillowy lips set in a frown, a genuine one that makes Louis' heart hurt a bit. "I hate being away from you," he croaks out, voice thicker and deeper than ever. His words sound heavy, heavier than they should this early in the morning. 

Louis kisses the corner of his mouth. "I hate being away from you, too, but we'll be okay. We've always come back to each other, haven't we?" 

Harry moves to capture Louis' lips in his and kisses him soundly, eyes closed and back arched to press closer to him. "Always," he hums into his husband's mouth. "Always come back to you."

They kiss slowly, languidly, just for the sake of kissing. Louis' been kissing this same boy for ten years now and he doesn't think he'll ever tire from feeling those lips against his own, tasting the uniquely Harry taste of his mouth, getting his fingers tangled in those curls. They kiss until the sun comes up and their legs are twined together like vines, when there's not a single inch of space between their chests and the promise of Home is reiterated in their kisses. 

Home, home, home. 

They'll always come back home. 

(Each other.)

**7 Days After the End:**

Zayn and Perrie come over. They both lost their parents back home and their only son halfway through the outbreak. Liam is gone, Louis' youngest sister is gone, Niall's brothers are gone, and no one mentions Harry. They have tea and munch on biscuits. Perrie holds Charlie in her arms until she can't, until she excuses herself to the bathroom where Louis can hear her cry. He thinks his hearing has gotten much better since everything began; his body perfectly attuned to even the faintest whimper these days. 

Niall stops by with Barbara and Ed later that night. They wait until Charlie's tucked into bed and kissed goodnight by all her uncles and aunts before heading over to the basement and downing bottle after bottle, hoping to drown out the noise of the last two years and the voices and memories that haunt them, won't leave them be. 

It feels like drowning, like suffocating. Louis' vision is blurred and the lump in his throat still doesn't go away after his ninth or tenth shot. Every bone in his body aches until the alcohol numbs him. It doesn't work as well with his thoughts though, because Louis' always been a fun, affectionate drunk but his mind continues as it has for the last two years - a nonstop loop of Harry Harry Harry - so he doesn't feel as affectionate as he normally would. Half of him is gone (probably). Half his life, his heart, his home, is somewhere on the other side of the world and Louis doesn't know if that half still has a heartbeat or not, doesn't know if that half of him still exists. 

He accidentally says this part aloud and immediately follows it with tears that flow mercilessly. He smashes a bottle against the television and Perrie wraps herself around him. The six of them collapse together in a pile in the middle of the basement, drunk and sad and permanently empty, crying because that's all they know anymore; that's all they feel anymore. 

The world collapses around him and Louis is still haunted by Home. 

**6 Years Before the Outbreak:**

The official number is 75,223 people. That's how many are in the stadium tonight, just to see them perform. Them, a tiny band of boys put together just barely four years prior. 

Louis finds Harry in the toilets (less and less surprised by the irony of it every time it happens) (and it happens a lot, honestly, it's kind of their thing). 

"Harold!" he yells off the top of his lungs. "Quit touching your willy, you little perv, and come out here!" 

There's a petulant grumble from one of the stalls. "M'not touching my willy!" Harry's voice comes a second later. There's more grumbling under his breath and then the sound of the toilet being flushed and Harry walking out of the stall.

"Wash your hands so I can kiss you already."

Harry stops mid-track. "Okay," he shrugs after a minute, and immediately does as he's told.

"Alright, alright, that's enough, c'mhere," Louis groans as he watches his boyfriend. 

Harry doesn't get a chance to dry off his hands before Louis' grabbing him by the shoulders and pouncing onto him. Harry stumbles with the attack, laughing into his boyfriend's mouth, but all it takes is Louis wrapping his legs around his waist for Harry's hormonal instincts to kick in. His palms squeeze around Louis' arse to hold him up and Louis sends them crashing against the back of the stalls. Harry turns them around and  _fuck_ , Louis thinks, if there's anything hotter than being felt up and pushed against a wall by Harry Styles. He bites down on Harry's plush lip and immediately licks and soothes over it when Harry makes a noise from the base of his throat and squeezes a little more roughly at his arse.

"Seventy-five thousand," Louis pants into his mouth.

" _Fuck,"_ Harry grunts, hips snapping against Louis' on their own accord.  _"_ Seriously?"

A moan escapes Louis' mouth and finds its place home in Harry's before he can reply. "Yeah," he breathes out in a haze. He grinds down against Harry and the sensation is so overwhelming that his breath comes out labored and he's sure his shoes are making a mess where they're digging into the small of Harry's back.

" _Fuck_ , H, stop, stop," he begs, pulling his mouth away. Harry chases after him though, steals two, three more kisses before Louis slaps a hand over his bruised lips and forces them to stop. "We have to be on stage in five minutes," he reminds him, "and I don't wanna come in my pants again. Caroline's gonna kill me if I ruin another pair." 

Harry shrugs. "Then let her know it was me," he offers, like it's really that simple. 

"You want me to tell the head of wardrobe that you stole me pants and came inside them?" 

Harry doesn't seem to find that statement nearly as ridiculous as Louis does if the way he attaches his mouth to Louis' neck is anything to go by. "'ve done it before."

Louis glances at his wristwatch and, okay. Three and a half minutes. That's totally enough time to fondle around a little bit. He bares his neck and hums, letting himself arch into Harry's palms and sigh dazedly when Harry suckles at the end of his jaw. "I'd rather not Caroline know what kind of dirty things you get up to when we're together, love." 

"You should consider keeping your voice down, then," Harry mouths against his skin. "Hotel walls are paper-thin. And you're quite loud."

And of course that's when Niall comes barging in.

"Jesus Christ!" he yells. "We told you to go find Harry, Lou, not to have your weird mating ritual in the toilets again!" 

The unfortunate part is that even Niall's painfully loud Irish voice isn't enough to kill the mood for them, so when they're pried apart by their bandmate it's no surprise that they're both pink-cheeked and half hard. Niall stands in between them as they walk out toward the stage (where they're late, once again), but it doesn't stop either of them from sneaking glances past Niall's head like schoolchildren. Harry blows Louis a kiss and mouths a happy  _I love you_. Louis winks and promises back  _tonight_. They're giddy and in love and currently being lectured by Niall, but everything is happy days so long as they're together. And 75,000 people will witness the weight of that statement tonight. 

**9 Days After the End:**

Louis hasn't slept properly in two years. He wakes up nine days after the international community had deemed it safe with Charlie against his chest. His eyes burn, having slept on and off all night, still not used to the idea of being safe, of not having to keep one eye open in case someone came for them. He feels a cold coming on and his entire body aches, but it's just him and Charlie now, so getting sick isn't an option anymore, plain and simple. He needs to take better care of himself for the sake of both of them. They should go out to the shops today and get some real food and veggies, whip up a pot of chicken soup and sit by the fire watching cartoons. 

That all sounds like a brilliant idea in Louis' head before he reminds himself that he knows fuck all about making chicken soup, that in the last twelve years he's never been the one to make it. It hits him like a tsunami; the reminder that someone else always took care of him, always held him through the night, always made the chicken soup. It takes two people to care for each other, but Louis doesn't have the comfort and safety of that anymore. It's just him and his baby.

He crawls out of bed, careful to not wake up Charlie, and heads out to the hallway where he dials a familiar number on his phone. 

Anne's voice is weak on the other end. "Lou?"

"Mum—" he chokes out on instinct, before he can even control himself. "Hi." 

"Louis, baby, it's so good to hear your voice." There's a ruffling noise and then Anne explaining to someone — Robin, probably — that it's Louis calling. Her voice sounds a little lighter when she speaks up again. "How are you, darling? Is everything okay?"

"Everything's good, yeah, we're fine. I was just wondering, um, if it'd be alright for Charlie and I to stop by today? I know it's—"

"Of course, love." 

Louis is only slightly stunned by how quick her response comes. "Are you sure? I don't wanna be a bother." 

"This is your home, too, Louis. Come over as soon as you can."

"Alright, yeah. Thank you, by the way. I know Charlie will be buzzing to see her granny again." 

Louis hears her swallow past a cry, doesn't miss how her voice waivers when she says, "That's what mums are for, right?" 

They hang up soon after. Louis goes back into Charlie's room and packs an overnight bag for the two of them before waking her up. He gives her a warm bath and lets her pick out her clothes while he rushes through a shower himself. They grab a few granola bars and some tea on their way out and by the time it hits noon Charlie's in the back of the tinted Range Rover and they're on their way to Cheshire for the first time in two years. 

Louis doesn't let himself think about it. He doesn't think of The List or LA or the cobblestone streets he knows like the back of his hand by now. He ignores the way the sun reflects off the gold band on his finger and decidedly puts on the peppiest, most sickeningly upbeat tunes on his phone. The sound of Anne's voice was enough for him, he thinks. Now it's just a matter of coping. He wonders if he's got the strength to ignore the pain in his chest for that long, until the end of his life, he presumes.

They make it to Cheshire by two in the afternoon and Robin must have made Anne vow to not cry because she greets them at the door with a blinding smile and doesn't shed a single tear. Charlie runs into her arms, Anne twirls her around, and Louis makes the same promise to himself. If his mum can handle the loss of her only boy, then surely Louis can too. 

**4 Years Before the Outbreak:**

"She's so tiny, isn't she?" Harry taps his finger against the glass wall. "Jesus, Lou, just look at her. She's so  _pink_." 

"She's an hour old, love, give her a break." 

Harry turns his head away from glass to look at Louis. His green eyes are wide and red - having cried nonstop for the last hour - but his lips are spread in the widest smile. His cheeks must hurt with the force of those dimples, and it only gets worse when he breathes out, "We have a baby girl, Lou." 

"We do," Louis repeats, equally in awe. 

He laces his fingers with Harry's and they stare at each other for a while, reading the unconditional joy written on the other's face. Louis' never seen his husband this unapologetically happy before. Not on their first date, not when they sold out Madison Square Garden, not even at their wedding (in his defense, that day was mostly spent bawling his eyes out, so). Harry's face is glowing, the happiness in his soul radiating off of him and infecting Louis more so than ever. He's never been good at containing himself, Harry, but right now he looks like he might break from finally feeling so  _complete_. 

"You wanna go in and hold her?" Louis asks after a while.

"Yeah," Harry nods. His bites into his bottom lip and his large palm is sweaty against Louis' own, but they walk into the room hand in hand. By the time they make their way over to the tiny pink ball of sunshine in the corner Harry's hands have started shaking.

"You okay?" Louis asks. He brings their locked hands up to his mouth and kisses the back of Harry's, hoping to ease away some of the nerves. 

"M'good, yeah," Harry exhales in awe. "Excited, a bit. I just can't really wrap my head around it." 

Louis lets go of his hand, but only to press a kiss to his temple and wrap an arm around his small waist. "It's okay, darling. We've got the rest of our lives to get used to it." 

Harry glances at him. "That's a long time." 

"Good thing I've got great company, then."

When Harry kisses his mouth Louis takes note of how much calmer he is. And when a nurse helps him pick up their little girl - Charlie, that's the name they've settled on - Harry's hands don't shake anymore. He holds their daughter close to his chest, right underneath his chin, and he's calmer than ever. He presses a kiss to their baby girl's bald little head and immediately breaks out into a blinding smile, giggly with relief. He is content, he is whole, and he is a father now.

Louis snaps a picture of the moment and prints it out a week later. They hang up that memory in the living room above the fireplace. 

They never take it down 

**14 Days After the End:**

Louis is in the living room staring at the black and white photo above the fireplace, willing himself not to break, when he hears it. It's loud and it's unforgiving and it's painful, so bloody painful; the worst noise he's ever had to hear. It's come at varying levels over the last two years, but never like this. Never with this weight of anguish to stricken Louis mid-day while he's trying to hold himself together. 

It's Charlie's cry and it breaks him. She sobs and the noise echoes throughout the house. Louis follows it on instinct, rushes out of the living room without so much as a second thought until he hears her hallow whimpers of,  _"Daddy, daddy!"_  and he freezes. He's in the middle of the foyer when Charlie comes bolting down the stairs, pulls the front door wide open, and jumps into her father's arms screaming his name off the top of her lungs. 

Louis sees him, couldn't miss him if he tried, but it feels like the earth has stopped spinning. It's like the same dream he's fallen victim to every night for the last two years. He pinches his thigh and Harry is still there, by the threshold of their London home with his face buried in Charlie's curls. Their daughter sobs with her entire body, small as it may be, and repeats to him how much she's missed him, how much she loves him, how happy she is to see him. Harry holds on to her fiercely, but Louis doesn't miss how his pale hands shake against the small of her back. 

He doesn't know how long he stands there watching them, but it's long enough for his eyes to start pooling up, long enough that Harry picks his head up, finds his husband's eyes, and immediately breaks. Somewhere in the mess of it all Harry puts Charlie down and Louis jumps into his arms and they cry, finally, for the two years they lost and the 3 billion people who've died. They cry because home has never felt this good and because they're no longer two separate halves. Louis wraps his arms around his husband's neck and kisses every inch of his face, peppers it with  _I love you'_ s until his throat hurts. They run their palms over each other's bodies, just to feel and remember and make sure that this is real, they are real, this is home, this is permanent. 

"You came back," Louis chokes out in awe when the I love you's have stopped. "You came back to me." 

Harry tightens his arms around his waist, hums into his neck, "I couldn't be without you." 

 **•••**  

They don't leave each other's side for a long time. There are days where Harry wakes up in a sweat, hyperventilating and reaching out for Louis in the dark, panicking and in tears. There are lots of those; an endless amount, it feels like. There are as many broken pieces as there are tears that they wipe and kiss away. 

Harry tells Louis about the two weeks after the declaration, stuck in their LA home with no means of communication. It'd been bad in Los Angeles, apparently, much worse than what London had seen. Entire parts of the city had been wiped out, landlines destroyed for months now. It'd taken Harry two weeks to get through clearance and find the earliest flight back to London. That's the only part he speaks of: those two weeks. He doesn't mention the two years, what exactly happened, and Louis doesn't push him. They'll get there when they do. For now it's piecing themselves together with the help and hold of the other, learning to accept that none of this is a horrible nightmare anymore. 

Louis wakes up most days with a constant of  _I love you_ and their bodies twined together. They don't let go for a long time after. 

**Author's Note:**

> um. i wrote this on my phone in 3 hours, so. apologies on any fucks ups, etc., you know the deal. 
> 
> [talk to me on tumblr!](http://tornorrows.tumblr.com/)


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